Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

Emily was given two ham-and-cheese sandwiches on white bread, real orange juice, and a bottle of water. She devoured everything, immediately regretting it. Her stomach was a mess from lack of food, but she forced herself to keep it down. I am not going to die in this place.

That meant making sure she was ready for whatever happened when Roberts came to escort her to see the lawyers. A pen wasn't the ideal weapon, but if thrust properly into the neck, it could pierce the jugular. It would be a question of speed and aim. Speed she was good at. Aim, not so much.

As for killing a guard to save her own life, Charge had to have known this wouldn't be easy. It was why he'd selected someone she could justify ending. Emily wasn't a killer by nature, but she was a protector, and the women in this place were being physically abused by Roberts and the warden's other psycho pets. If she could feel okay about ending anyone's life, this guard was it.

Later that same morning, around seven a.m., Emily was escorted to the showers by a guard who seemed too tired to mess with her. She was uncuffed and then given an entire two minutes to wash her hair and body. She stole some toothpaste from a tube left on the floor and rubbed it on her teeth, working it in with the corner of her clean prison shirt.

Emily was walked back to her cell, where she tucked her pen into the waist of her underwear and sat to wait for Roberts. Almost an hour later, Summers showed up. "Hays, you have visitors."

Emily's stomach lurched. "What—what are you doing here?"

"One of the officers called in sick, so I'm picking up a half shift." She lowered her voice. "I also wanted to check in on you. Change your mind about telling me what really happened last night?"

Oh God. Oh God! Where's Roberts? Emily needed to kill her in front of the lawyers. She could never hurt Summers, even if it meant rotting in this hellhole.

"That's, uh, really nice of you, but I'm fine. I swear," Emily said.

Summers shook her head. "I'm here on weekends and Wednesdays if you ever change your mind."

"Who's here to see me?" Emily asked, stalling for time.

Summers shrugged. "Some lawyers."

"Um. Okay." Charge had said to kill a guard in front of the lawyers, but did she really need to kill? Couldn't she simply attack?

Fuck. Even that would feel wrong.

Summers led Emily downstairs to the section of the prison for visitors. Emily's hands began to shake, sweat dripping down her brow.

"You all right?" Summers asked.

Not even a little . "I'm just not a fan of this place."

"Prison isn't supposed to be fun."

They stopped in front of a door, which Emily assumed was a visitation room. "I know, but this place is especially terrifying, which is why I was asked to kill Roberts. But now you showed up."

Summers's demeanor instantly shifted. She stepped back, reaching for her stun gun.

"No. No. I'm not going to hurt you. If that was my goal, I wouldn't tell you a thing, right?"

Summers didn't budge. Emily could tell she wasn't foolish enough to trust a criminal. Especially one who just confessed to being there to kill a guard.

"I can tell you're a good person," Emily said. "Which is why I'm going out on a limb here. The cartel wants Roberts dead," Emily lied. "Apparently, she killed someone, and they want revenge."

Summers frowned. "The cartel doesn't have inmates here."

Emily arched a brow. "I can prove I was sent here to do a hit. Look up my name, Justine Hays, on the internet. You won't see any news about a trial or conviction. That's because it was all arranged to get me inside."

Summers narrowed her eyes. "If what you're saying is true, why tell me?"

"I don't want to do the hit. And I sure as fuck don't want to be here, but the cartel didn't give me a choice." Emily drew a breath. "If you can help me get transferred out of this prison, I can buy protection with a rival cartel gang," she lied again. Really, she just needed to give Charge a chance to break her out during transport. "It's the only way I'll survive until I can figure out what to do." It was the world's flimsiest story, but it was the best Emily could think up on the fly. Please buy it? Please?

Summers stared, as if trying to work out why she should care or lift a finger.

"Roberts tortures the inmates," Emily added. "Sexually. And she doesn't do it alone ."

"You're saying Warden Mitchel is in on this?" Summers asked.

"Yes. He rents out the inmates for sex. I'm already teed up for a party next week. That's why Hellman came to see me last night as a sort of warm-up." Another lie.

Summer stared. "I knew it. I knew he was up to something."

"You have to get me out of here," Emily said. "Tell the warden I'm cartel. Then he'll have to send me somewhere else."

"He'd want proof."

"It's not like the cartel gives out membership cards." Emily pleaded with her eyes. "Please help me?"

Summers inhaled slowly. "I'll make a few calls and see what I can do. In the meantime, you're expected to meet with the lawyers." She jerked her head toward the door.

"Better just take me back to my cell."

"You sure?"

"I have nothing to tell them."

***

"I heard you're no longer needed next week." Hellman stood over Emily. She didn't know the time, but it had to be early afternoon.

"What are you doing in my cell?" She sat up and backed herself against the wall, reaching for the pen she hid under her pillow.

"Warden says you're being shipped out to a different prison."

Emily exhaled. So Summers had come through. What had she told the warden to convince him?

"Did he mention why I'm being moved?" Emily asked for informational purposes.

"You opened your mouth about his little side business." Hellman began unbuckling his belt. "Do you know what happens to inmates who talk?"

Emily's hand began shaking under her pillow as she clenched the pen. "What happens?"

"Same thing that happened to Summers."

Oh no. "What—what did you do to her?"

Hellman smiled. "You killed her. Cold blood. You'll get the chair this time."

What? Summers was dead? Emily's heart sank. She must've confronted the warden, and the warden decided to keep her from talking.

Hellman stepped forward, whipping out his cock. It was the smallest, thinnest piece of meat she'd ever seen. "What are you going to do with that? Stir your coffee?"

Hellman slapped her. "Shut the fuck up, or you'll spend your last few days in the hole, getting fucked by every guard in here."

Emily cupped her stinging cheek, anger pumping in her veins. She was so damned tired of being hit! No more…

"Do you know what I did for a living, Hellman?" She smiled. "I ran a group of extremely skilled, well-connected hit men who absolutely love killing men like you. Sometimes, they even do it for free. That's how much they enjoy it."

"That supposed to scare me?" he said, still holding his sad little swizzle stick. "That story ain't gonna save you, sweetheart."

"No, but this will." She pulled out the pen and lunged. Hellman fell over, and she straddled him quickly, pushing one elbow into his cheek. She pierced his neck and quickly placed his hand over the wound. "That's a hole in your neck, Hellman. So if I were you, I'd keep my hand pressed hard."

She slid off him and got to her feet, backing away. "Now, you're going to get up, leave my cell, and close the door. And when you scream for help and they ask what happened, you're going to tell the warden that my team will go after anyone who comes near me. They'll go after everyone you love, everyone you care about." Not exactly true, but she had to try something to keep these psychos away.

He got to his feet, thick syrupy blood gushing between his fingers and down his neck.

"Hurry up before you bleed to death," Emily said.

He rushed outside, closing her cell door behind him.

"Help! Help!" she could faintly hear him yell.

Through the tiny glass window, Emily spotted one of the female guards coming to his rescue.

"That was for Summers, you pig."